Un Mauvais Rêve
by larrythestapler
Summary: Kyouya is trying to tell Haruhi something. Tamaki's braindead! But when she enters the hospital room, the mirage of Tamaki haunts her, and it will not go away until Haruhi accepts the present. Literally translates to "A Bad Dream." Threeshot.
1. Kyouya's Creepiness

A/N: Tamaki becomes brain dead after a car accident. How will the brilliant, assertive Haruhi Fujioka deal with it? Based off of the Scrubs episode "My Long Goodbye." I do not own Scrubs or Ouran High School Host Club. I apologize for course language and strings of words, but it makes do. Also based off of the song "A Bad Dream" by Keane. Again, I don't own the song. Any French speakers out there? The title literally translates to "A Bad Dream."

Un Mauvais Rêve

To many, death is simply a recurring part of living. Bereavement, the five stages of death; these processes merely indicate humanity and its beliefs. But death never deeply affected Haruhi; she became immune to its effects after her mother died. True, that belief made her seem cold and inhumane, but the fact that she stubbornly moved on showed her character, and more importantly her great imperviousness to weakness. And once in a while she would contemplate about those long forgotten lives she once loved and wondered what if? What if they had not gotten that ugly stroke, that deadly cancer? She felt ashamed thinking of those thoughts. Still, perhaps death was the cure to living. Haruhi had seen her mother died so peacefully, she dealt with the disease. Kotoko took control of the disease, rather than vice versa. She almost planned out her death, and her grief counselor encouraged her calm, natural demeanor.

Still, when given the chance to enjoy life, a person should take it and spend more time appreciating life, rather than wasting it on such dreary thoughts. A young brunette stared out the window. It was a sunny day, not unusual for a summer day. Her dad had left for work early, and she waited for the alarm clock to buzz. School was out, and she had finally received her acceptance letter into Ouran Law School. Haruhi had not slept in days, studying for her finals. Nevertheless, she could not break off the habit of waking up early and staying up late, although her academic worries were far from threatening at the moment.

Out of all the unbroken habits was Haruhi's poor aesthetic. True, she did not cut her hair after being forced to cross-dress for the host club in high school, but besides that, her wardrobe still consisted of boy shorts, unironed polos, and oversized t-shirts. She neither had the time nor the will to go shopping. The mindless girl found the hobby petty, time-consuming, and above all wasteful to her tight budget. Plus she had not kept in contact with the infamous host club after enrolling in college. Time simply disappeared from her hands like magic.

Even above that dilemma, Haruhi had never once fallen in love. She found the cons against it similar to her distaste in fashion; it wasted money, time, and importance. The word love meant investment in time she did not have and a bet in commitment, which she only gave to her long term goal. She sought after the career passionately, incessantly, and endlessly, but as for relationships….The girl never once cared for attention, unless it was to defend someone. Haruhi simply did not care, and she wondered if her lack in emotion was a hindrance to her invigorating compassion towards justice. But she still missed her old high school experiences and the rapports she had formed with the host club members. The feeling she felt towards those idiots….that feeling breached love's confinements.

Haruhi let out a long sigh as she stretched and climbed out of her futon to make breakfast. She went downstairs to the main floor to check for a paper and greeted the cheerful landlady who rambled on about the latest news, robbers and rapists. She climbed up the stairs once more and opened her apartment door. The risks were zero to none, the day shone brightly, and no thief or pervert in their right mind would barge in. Haruhi effortlessly swung the door open and opened the fridge. There were no chores to do, nothing to study for. She had the day to herself. And the great Haruhi Fujioka chose to waste it by watching a _Cheers_ marathon. She brewed her morning black coffee and opened the window with another sigh of relief. Cheers and nothing to do. Fantastico. Her brilliant mind undressed of its complexity and patiently became vulnerable to slapstick comedy and the fresh air of summer laced with crude simplicity.

All of sudden a Haruhi heard the unlocking of the door.

"Dad?" _That's weird, why is he coming home at this time? Eh. _

"No. It's—"the voice answered. It was male and sounded worrisome, someone used to charm and glitz. The voice contained insecurity and brevity, to such an extent that it seemed potentially dangerous. They had warned her about such dangers in her Feminine Defense class. Given that she had not slept in days, Haruhi's mental status became standoffish and irrational. Her adrenaline rushed, and her heart rate climaxed. _IT'S A RAPIST! Oh God, I should've known. The landlady's been warning me and, and, well this is it, first, beat the crap out of him and then call the police! _she thought. The young brunette took a hold of her frying pan and marched to the door. Without thought she saw a male silhouette, shapely, better yet rather scrawny, and relentlessly threw the frying pan to his face several times with insolent rage. He cowered in fear, hiding behind his arms.

"YOU PERVERTED, SICK, SCUMBAG!" Haruhi barked, saliva foaming at her mouth.

"WHAT THE FU—"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME YOU PIECE OF—" Haruhi raised her left fist in the air as a gesture of malevolence. The figure made for the door, but she grabbed it by the neck collar.

"HARU—"

"You have no shame. You freaking son of a—"

"LISTEN!" The body pushed back against her and gently shoved her to the mahogany colored door.

"YOU CAN'T JUST GO INTO PEOPLE'S HOMES, YOU DIRTBAG. TRY AND RAPE ME AND I HAVE THE WHOLE LAW SYSTEM BEHIND ME. TOUCH ME AGAIN AND I SWEAR I WILL CHOP IT OFF" Haruhi struggled to push him down, as she was small framed herself. She grabbed the dusty mop leaning against the wall and held it up after the pan dropped with a _clank!_ Out of her mind, she pointed to the butcher knife on the table, hoping it would magically rise to her defense.

It did not.

So she chose to headbutt him.

"Okay missy, just calm down, just calm down." The young man backed off, and revealed himself to her as he slowly backed from the apartment door. And she remembered the familiar bespectacled face from her high school years.

Haruhi found her head in the chest of Kyouya Otoori, and the moment became greatly awkward. A blush fell upon her face, for being presumptive and her remorse stretched infinitely.

"Oh dear. Senpai…" Her jaw dropped. "I AM SO SORRY!"

Kyoua grinned as a sign of sure friendship. _That's odd. Kyouya never grins or acts this politely around his closer friends. My, my he looks different. _

"Senpai? I uh, um, rape warnings, hahaha," Haruhi nervously chuckled with her hands behind her back. _Mon dieu! Gosh, I haven't met him in years, and the way I greet him is by beating the senses out of him. Awkwaaaaard. "_Sorry, haha."

"Please, call me Kyouya. It's okay, we're not colleagues anymore and I've stopped being that cold manipulative bastard," he chuckled. Kyouya sincerely smiled and offered her a gesture of kindness. "You put up quite a fight over there! My apologies for bursting in, but I had something urgent to tell you."

And so they stood at the door of the small apartment. Kyouya wore a pair of baggy jeans and a loose white dress shirt. His glasses were gone and despite his fatigue state, he was stunningly hot. His glazy onyx eyes sparkled, and everything about him was perfect. His perfect nose. His perfect hips. His perfect forehead. Haruhi was standing next to an incredible hunk, but she was not impressed. Not by his dumb seductive nature, that not unlike the immortals. She still had a creepy borderline feeling around him, after what he tried to do to her at the private beach. She had seen him half-naked once, and that was that.

"Wow. Is that really you Kyouya? You've changed so much. For one thing you're wearing regular clothes instead of those fancy Givanni's suits and designer clothes. Wow! That's great. You look tired, please come in." She shut the door and offered Kyouya a stool near the kitchen counter. He sat down with a polite demeanor robbing his slyness, yet Haruhi could not help but notice the paleness of his complexion.

"As do you. How much sleep have you been getting? Increased paranoia, hallucinations? I'm betting Ouran's Law School already accepted you, judging by the cleanliness of your apartment." The small apartment had three rooms, with the kitchen and living room connected. The house was cleaner, and Kyouya judged upon it with the knowledge of Haruhi's behavior towards anything else simultaneous to her studies.

"Ah, yeah. It's been a rough couple of years. So how are things going for you senpai?" Haruhi leaned her face, a sure sign of interest. Kyouya gritted his teeth, clearly annoyed that she did not comprehend to the point, a rather out of character behavior of her. Still, it was Haruhi Fujioka after all. She did not often observe the sentiments of others, let alone her own.

"Well. Things have happened. I'm now in medical school now. But—" Kyouya stopped, seeing that Haruhi had already prepared herself for a full response. He let out a groan.

"Really? That's fantastic! Was it difficult? I thought you were going to go after that Otoori empire or something—"

"Besides the fact that you're unbelievably chatty today…" Kyouya smoothly tapped his fingers on the table.

"—and all that stuff about your brothers, and their MBAs, aren't you going to do something about it?" Haruhi stopped and her brown orbs penetrated his now stone-cold onyx eyes. Haruhi reached for the remote on the counter and turned off the television set, as she offered Kyouya a drink.

"Haruhi, Tamaki was in a car accident, and the hospital officially announced him brain dead."

"Huh?"

A/N: Sad, eh? I've never really dealt with death myself so traumatically, but believe it or not, television really helps you understand humanity. Please review! I would really appreciate any comments and suggestions for the next chapter! I'm sorry if my writing's a little off tense and course, but this is what I managed to write after not tapping those keys for a while! Enjoy!

POLL: Does Kyouya look better with or without his glasses?


	2. Resonance

**Un Mauvais Reve**, Ouran High School Host Club fanfic

_larrythestapler_

A/N: Writing getting lazier. References to Scrubs. I do not OWN the song "Guy Love." I also have no ownership towards Scrubs (American TV Show) or Ouran High School Host Club (Funimation).

The echoes of Kyouya's words resonated in her ears over and over again. Brain dead. She could not believe, that without contact for over five years, Tamaki went ahead and died.

She quietly rode in the car as Kyouya filled the empty silence with small talk. It failed to assuage any feeling of remorse and sadness. After a long car ride, they arrived at a hospital. Haruhi was surprised to see her old colleagues there; it seemed they were all different from years since she last saw them. The twins were more serious, dressed in business suits of remarkable difference. They stood near Tamaki's emotionless face, gently touching his hospital bed.

"Senpai, you were an idiot. But you were great. Without you, Hikaru and I would not have opened up or gotten to this point." Kaoru whispered, with a serious look filling his face. His flamboyant, unruly red hair now dropped on his head with a flatness, ungelled and unspiked. Hikaru danced his fingers on Tamaki's pale cheeks, and finished his brothers melancholic words with a simple:

"Goodbye, Tamaki."

****************

"Oh NO, HE DIDN'T. Did he just TOUCH MY FACE? HIS GREASY, DIRTY HANDS, TOUCHED MY FACE? IF I GET A ZIT, I'M SUING." Tamaki screamed with a distressed look on his face. He placed his pale fingers onto his perfect, unwrinkled forehead, as Haruhi jumped with shock.

"Senpai? You're supposed to be brain dead!" she screamed.

"Oh, please, girl, I'm so alive I'm burning up more than a preteen JBF."

"JBF?" Haruhi said, bemused. She stared at the figure next to her, and the one on the bed. Braindead Tamaki looked the same, but his eyes, his eyes were closed and closed the gates of liveliness. The young man next to her stared at her with brilliant sapphire-violet eyes. She merely gaped at him.

"Jonas. Brothers. Fan." Tamaki said discordantly, to sharpen his point. "You have pretty hair," he said, putting his fist to his chin with a dazzled glance.

"Shut up." Haruhi twirled her long, straight chestnut-colored hair as Tamaki started singing popular tunes from _Moulin Rouge! _He danced around her in circles, singing his heart out, and taunting the sanctity of her sanity. Still, even though he was brain dead, he was still annoying. Had she gone mad? She stared at the lifeless body in front of her.

"Yoo hoo, I'm over here," a dancing Tamaki exclaimed. "HARU-HEEEEEE. Why have you forsaken me again?" Tamaki cried as he entered a spiral near the corner of the waiting room.

"Who are you?" Tamaki immediately rose from his spiral and jumped upwards, swishing his golden hair back, with a complacent smirk on his face.

"I'm Tamaki. And you're Haruhi Fujioka."

"I don't understand." Haruhi Fujioka, was pygmied at last. She failed to comply to creativity and stayed with logic and fact.

"You're _soooo _narrow-minded."

"Whatever. Just leave, okay? You're not helping the fact that I just lost a really good friend." Haruhi mumbled. Law school. College. Those concepts stole humanity out of her. She became cold, meticulous, brainless, and least pleasantly, inhumane. She lost the courage of hope and the strength of sympathy. All she had were her ice cold facts, not making time for acquaintances or loved ones.

"A really good friend?" Mirage Tamaki's eyes softened.

"Yeah." Haruhi said quietly.

"Well, I'm not dead yet, I'm over here." Haruhi let out a long sigh, and pulled out her laptop. Summer assignments were in, and she decided to get a head start. Distracted, she found mirage Tamaki not there anymore, but instead saw Kyouya entering the dull gray room. The girl gave a sigh of relief.

"BOOGAH BOOGAH BOOGAH!!!" Haruhi screamed, and found Tamaki's presence next to her once more. "Scared you didn't I?" Tamaki smirked. Haruhi blushed angrily with a scowl on her face, as a wilting Tamaki apologized, tears in the shape of ramen streaming down his face. Haruhi smiled. assuaging his troubles. Still, it was quite a perturbance for her to smile.

"Please. For. Give. Me."

She honestly liked Tamaki. In high school, his pranks never extended so far to the point of offense. He always enjoyed helping other people, getting so absorbed that he would often risk his own reputation. He respected her, teased her, but she was aware of the tension between them.

People often gossiped about them hooking up, and Tamaki's face would flush red. The brunette knew him better, than that; his kindness often breached his impulses. Sure, Tamaki had charm and wits, but he knew his place and gave her no more than a slightly disturbing kiss on the forehead, overcompensating that it was a father's presentation of love.

"Why aren't you out there?" Tamaki whispered. "It's such a nice day! The trees are wavering, the sun is bright, and little birds are singing." He opened his arms toward the real Tamaki's room window with an idiotic, ecstatic sentiment pasted on his face.

"Oh my gosh. DID KYOUYA JUST HOLD MY HAND? MOMMY HAS FINALLY SHOWN ME LOVE." The blond screamed as his cheeks reddened with joy. "IT'S GUY LOVE, THAT'S ALL IT IS, IT'S GUY LOVEE MINE AND HIS. THERE'S NOTHING--"

Haruhi returned to her laptop with a sigh. _This is going to be long._

She watched Kyouya leave the room with a solemn face and tear-stained cheek. The hand-holding, crying...these things, it was as if they had switched roles. Haruhi continued typing on her laptop, cold and withdrawn from the situation.

A/N: Meh, my writing got lazier, but I PROMISE, I will improve the next chapter where Haruhi finally accepts.

**POLL**: Kyouya is hotter with/without glasses?


	3. Au Revoir, Mon Ami

Un Mauvais Reve

Chapter 3: Au Revoir, Mon Ami

A/N: I kind of rushed through it, but hope it's enjoyable!

_Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club._

Haruhi crossed her legs as she saw Mori and Hunny walk out the hospital. She lingered near the psychiatric ward of the hospital, sitting on a bright red bench located next to a small lake. A feeling of calmness stole the moment as orderlies and candy stripers led patients around the building. Trees surrounded the area beneath the bright sun, providing coolness and clearness. She let out a sigh of frustration as she saw Tamaki's mirage on the other side of the lake, waving vehemently. Block words shouted in her head impatiently. He. Will. Never. Leave. Ever.

"Am I going CRAZY?" The brunette threw her face in her hands. She checked her surroundings again. The bench was red. The sky was blue. Yet a supposedly

brain dead Tamaki stood next to her, lively and annoying as ever.

"So, you're brain dead." Haruhi mused unenthusiastically.

"So, your bra is showing."

"What? You're supposed to be gone! You're ruining the moment!" Haruhi snapped, as she adjusted her undergarment. She became feverish and tired as the boisterous young man took a seat near her.

"I thought we were stating the obvious." Tamaki giggled uncontrollably, grabbing hold of his thin abdomen.

"No, we aren't. I can't do it." Haruhi fought back the tears and swallowed down her depression. Denial spread through her body hotly.

"Well, you know what you have to do." Tamaki gently said as he laid his hand on her shoulder. The touch felt eerily thin and ghostly. But his presence was clear.

"No. I don't know what to do," Haruhi replied firmly. Unable to make eye contact with Tamaki, she twirled her thumbs uncertainly.

"Odd, your tone of voice sounded so succinct."

"Blah," Haruhi grunted in a very non-Haruhi way. A sharpness in her head struck as she let out a wince of pain. A combination of pain, confusion, and worries surrounded her heard. It hurt ineffably, but Haruhi bit her tongue.

"Why did you come here anyway? We barely knew each other, and then we broke off all connections."

"I loved you, and ironically, I still do," the brunette stated uncomfortably. Emotional truth was never an easy thing for her to admit. She lived by the rules of reality and staunchness, but she lacked the faith and psyche of the commoner.

"You can't love a dead person, can you? Say goodbye." Tamaki whispered curtly. His back arched back gracefully, terribly contrast to Haruhi's slouching subdued figure. The argument felt mutually futile, but it continued.

"You're not dead." Haruhi argued. "Well, at least he isn't dead. The heart is still working. We keep all our things at heart don't we?" She let out a breath of despair, balling her fist up to her chin.

"Why do you think," Tamaki asked, "that you've seen me all this time?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that." Haruhi tried to ease the migraine building in her head as the blonde chuckled lightly.

"I wonder if you'll miss me when I'm gone." Clouds abruptly gathered around the sun as those words slipped from his mouth. Grayness stretched across the sky, depriving hope but replacing courage. Simultaneously, a long stretch silence estranged the two people.

"Of course I will, you idiot." Haruhi balled her fist onto the bench to distract the ripping pain inside her head. The interaction of her fist to the bench lacked impact, leaving Haruhi resilient from the pain.

"Why do you always keep things to yourself? You're in pain. Do something about it. Get pissed. Scream. Stop having so much confidence in adversity and keeping everything quiet and under pressure. Do what you want and have hope. All this time, you were dealing with the problem realistically, and that doesn't always work in real situations."

"I try to retain self control." Haruhi's mouth warped into a grim as she looked up at the sky, gray and cold. "Dang, I hope there's no thunder. Ah, shoot my head is wringing."

"_Just release yourself_." And at that moment, a crystallizing moment in time paused, and Haruhi knew what she had to do. He lead her to the room where the real Tamaki lay lifelessly on the hospital cot. His lips were chapped, his hand motionless, and she saw him as a mere corpse. But there was a chance for goodbye. And this was a chance she was going to take.

"_Go on, Haruhi. Just do it._" He gave her a last awkward pat on her left shoulder, firm, solid, but unfortunately their last interaction. She looked back, and stared him in his gentle violet eyes ultimately and faced the pallid figure next to her. The odd brightness and calmness of the room's wall satirically mocked her melancholia. Tamaki's situation felt anything but vivid and real; everything felt fantastical and irrational, as her head spun.

But she knew she had to end the story, happy ending or not.

_Sigh._ Here she comes.

"Damn, I'm still not ready." Haruhi choked as tears welled. She fought them hard, but finally submitted. She wiped her tears quickly on her sleeve.

"I can't believe I'll never see you again. Ever. A few years without seeing you, then you're gone forever."

_Sigh _A smile formed under her tears as she stroked Tamaki's cold hands. Real and cold_._

"Remember when I broke the vase, and you made me become the host club's dog? I was so scared. I never thought I would finish the debt."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that," Haruhi paused,"you were always there to help me. Like a teacher. A lover. A friend. You gave me opportunity. Hope. But I guess all that's gone wasted." She gazed back at the door, and a combination of relief and shock shot through her veins as she realized Tamaki no longer stood behind her.

"You've always been my friend. And optimism."

"_Au revoir, mon ami_." She let go of the grip she had on Tamaki's hand, and as if by ironic phenomena, a noise interrupted the final moment.

The EKG let out a long beep in the silence as Haruhi drowned herself in inconsolable tears. Rain, thunder, lightning—all those things happened. But fear was ripped out of Haruhi and replaced with a worse substitute—acceptance

Kyouya and Hikaru both entered the room after watching from the waiting room. The guided her out the room, and into the pouring rain, to go home, rest. It pained both of them to see her in such a state, but they both knew the result of all.

She was going to be okay.


End file.
